


Honesty

by ArchangelEquinox



Series: Once More to the Breach [3]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Comfort/Angst, F/M, Friendship, Lyrium Addiction, Lyrium Withdrawal, Skyhold, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-07 02:14:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4245636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArchangelEquinox/pseuds/ArchangelEquinox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen tries to escape a migraine by visiting a little-known area of Skyhold.  There, invading, he finds Varric, and more peace than he expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Honesty

Cullen blinked rapidly. A wiggling line had appeared just on the edge of his vision, a tiny mote of dust or fur wedged into his eye and blurring his vision. Perhaps he could clear it before it started to sting and he'd need to venture up into his loft to find a mirror and dig it out.

  
Too late, just as his lieutenants filed in for their meeting, he realized it was an aura, a precursor to the fast-approaching migraine that would stab into his skull. He didn't usually get them; his headaches preferred to spring upon him unannounced, giggling maniacally as they distorted his senses and beat him into submission.

  
_Perfect_ , he thought. _Just perfect._

  
\---  
Hours later, he wandered out onto the battlements. The meeting had finally ended -- he refused to cut his duties short just to deal with his own stupidity -- and now he hoped that the cool breeze of the Frostbacks coupled with the settling twilight might ease his pain.

  
The damn migraine still pounded away on one side of his head, happily ignoring the sheer will he was applying in the hopes of ending it. That tactic never worked, despite his best efforts. Most enemies he could defeat easily, could apply some strategy or plan and away the danger went, but when it came to his own body… well, there his tactician's mind meant little. Especially when the pain itself ground those skills into dust.  
He marched through the ruined towers near his. He'd chosen his office specifically to be close to his troops, yes, but he'd also liked its privacy from the main castle of Skyhold. Of course, once his open-door policies were made known, that privacy had dwindled significantly. Then, as his withdrawals worsened, he'd been forced to search elsewhere.

  
The towers nearest his were in even worse shape than his own. He may not have much of a roof, but at least there was a loft for his bed and meager personal affects -- unlike these, whose debris-littered floors and destroyed ceilings made them entirely uninhabitable. When he'd first explored them in the days just after arriving to Skyhold, he'd wondered who might claim them. No one had.

  
The corner tower was less a disaster than the previous two, but still needed more work than they had men for at the moment. Maybe eventually, once their numbers recovered after the destruction at Haven. For now, he was it. The ceiling above him was sturdier than the others, and he'd repaired a small ladder just enough to climb up safely. From there, he could stand outside and survey the mountains in peace. Upon leaving, he always tossed the ladder haphazardly aside, askew enough that no one ever thought to notice its restored condition.

  
Today, that ladder was already propped up, the way upstairs already open.

  
For a moment, he considered walking away. _That little bit of quiet won't be the same,_ his anguished mind pointed out, the pain throbbing with renewed vigor at the thought of basic conversation. _Perhaps it's the Inquisitor,_ another, more treacherous part of his mind whispered. It was certainly possible; the woman was known to explore every inch of her castle, often cropping up in unusual places.

  
He shook his head, trying to clear the thought away and instead creating a fresh symphony of agony. The tower around him felt simultaneously too hot and too small -- he needed air.

  
Cursing the invader quietly, he started up the ladder.

  
\---  
Varric stood there, leaning against the low stone walls enfolding the top of the tower. Evidently he'd been there a while, facing the mountains, seeking silence from the rest of Skyhold. Cullen pulled himself up the ladder slowly. _Of all the people I didn't want to talk to…_

  
The mountain breeze gusted up suddenly, pulling a long stream of smoke from the cigarette in Varric's hand, its scent drifting to Cullen's nostrils. He was expecting it to smell rancid, just one more unwelcome assault on his senses, but instead the smooth tobacco scent seemed to sink into his nose, gentle instead of harsh, a quiet, calm reminder of days long past.

  
Varric heard the deep breath that Cullen took and held out a cigarette to him. He didn't even glance back.

  
"Curly," he said quietly, nodding once. Cullen stared at the proffered cigarette for a long moment. He hadn't smoked in years, since before taking his templar vows, when he'd exchanged one addiction for another. Now, looking back, he'd have much preferred to stay with the cigarettes. They seemed innocent in comparison.

  
He stepped closer to Varric, reaching out and grasping the cigarette carefully. Varric withdrew his hand and came back momentarily with a match. Cullen took that too. He drew it across the rough stone in front of him and it sputtered to life. Lifting it, he lit the end of the cigarette he'd already tucked into the corner of his mouth, cupping his opposite hand around the flame. When it caught, he shook the flame out. His other hand had already slipped back into a long forgotten position at his lips, holding the edge of the smoke. He inhaled, long and careful, trying not to cough. The fog inside his head didn't clear, of course not, but between the smoke in his lungs and the breeze on his face, the throbbing faded, just a little.

  
"Varric," he finally said, removing the cigarette from his lips and leaning against the battlements. The two men smoked in silence for a long while. Beyond them, the sun settled fully below the mountains, leaving Skyhold in shadow.

"So," Varric said eventually, still not turning from the view before them. "How long?" Cullen blinked.

  
"How long what?" he asked. Smoke curled gently from the cigarette in his hand and he pondered it, wondering if Varric could possibly mean what he didn't want to admit.

  
"Since you last took lyrium."

  
"How can you know --" Varric cut off his indignation.

  
"Leliana might be the spymaster, but I have my ways too."

  
Cullen didn't respond immediately, his ire fading as he thought about the dwarf's abilities. It was too easy to forget that Varric was a spy as well as an archer, at heart.

  
He sighed. "Long enough."

  
They stared in silence for a few more minutes, their cigarettes burning down slowly. When Varric's neared its end, he plucked it from his lips and ground it under his toes, smoke seeping from between his lips.  
"How are you?" He asked it quietly, carefully. Cullen sighed again.

  
"Better than I could be," he offered. "Not as good as I'd like to be."

Varric nodded. "'Could be worse' doesn't seem like much comfort," he observed.

  
"No," Cullen agreed. He chuckled, his gaze dropping down to his clasped hands. Separating them, he lifted the cigarette to his lips again and inhaled. His hand shook, just a little.

  
Varric watched him for a moment in silence. "Is it worth it?"

  
For the first time, Cullen turned to look at him. He stared for a moment before pushing himself up and pulling the cigarette from between his lips.

  
"I don't know yet," he answered honestly. Confusion flickered across Varric's face for a moment. "The headaches, the nightmares… It's hard to see the end." He wasn't sure why he was being so honest now, volunteering so much information. Perhaps he just wanted someone else to know, someone who wasn't as tough and unbroken as Cassandra seemed to be. Perhaps he trusted Varric, whom he'd known since Kirkwall.

  
Perhaps his headache was worse than he'd thought.

 

That didn't seem to be it though, since when he pushed his consciousness toward that pain, it only shifted dully, like his tongue probing where a tooth had once been. It was no longer the stabbing, ripping pain of having that tooth pulled.

  
"Shit, Curly," Varric said, pulling him back. "What're the chances it will…" _kill me?_ Cullen's addled mind supplied. His gaze flew back to the mountains, his body dropping heavily against the stone again. The smoke in the air suddenly didn't smell so sweet.

  
"I don't know that either. High, I should think." Varric's eyebrows shot up, his eyes widened, and he looked hopeful.

  
"Really?"

  
Cullen all but growled. "I know I've made mistakes, dwarf, but do you really hope for my end so fervently?" To his ears, he sounded almost civil.

  
Varric, however, looked stunned. His jaw worked for a moment.

  
"I meant that you'd succeed," he finally said. Cullen turned to look at him, really look this time, and saw the slump of Varric's shoulders.

  
"Maker's breath," he groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I'm sorry. My head … the tower was… I have trouble thinking lately," he finished wearily.

  
"This is news?" Varric's face caught a cheeky grin now.

  
"Don't press your luck, dwarf," he growled, but now jest accompanied the sound. Varric lit another cigarette and passed it to Cullen, who ground his current, near-dead one out against the stone and flicked it over the edge. They inhaled as one, Cullen relinquishing his smoke in one big huff. Next to him, Varric blew a series of growing smoke-rings toward the Frostbacks.

  
"I don't know those odds," Cullen supplied in time.

  
Varric nodded. "Shit, Curly," he repeated. Then he asked, "Is this tower your private space?" For the first time since the aura appeared, indeed for the first time since he jolted awake that morning, Cullen smiled a little.

  
"I built the ladder up here, yes." Varric seemed to be waiting for him to speak, so he continued. "My soldiers are always going through my office -- it's very loud. I needed a place to clear my head."

  
"Then I won't tell Sunburst about it," Varric laughed. "She's always trying to find new places around here."

  
"I would appreciate that." They lapsed back into silence again. Cullen was smoking with less interest now, his cigarette burning almost idly away between his fingertips. Varric was struggling to create some new smoke-shape but failing. It was more amusing than Cullen wanted to let on.

  
A thought struck him.

  
"Wait, if you know, does that mean the Inquisitor…"

  
Varric smiled knowingly. He took a pull from his cigarette, playing out Cullen's concern for a moment. He had straightened up, his shoulders taking on tension once again. Releasing the smoke in a mass that was probably supposed to be a heart, Varric finally answered. "Relax, Curly. She's a rogue, sure, but I think she's got a _little_ too much on her plate right now to play investigator into your issues."

  
"You're not going to --"

  
"Your secret is safe with me," Varric said. _I wonder which secret he means,_ that treacherous part of Cullen's mind spoke up again. Then Varric winked, the question answered. Cullen groaned. It must have been aloud, because Varric pushed himself up and stepped back from the battlements. He crushed out his cigarette and made his way across the stone.

  
"I hope it works, Curly," he offered. "I'll try not to invade up here. But if you need a smoke…" he trailed off and Cullen gave a small smile over his shoulder.

  
"Thanks, Varric." The dwarf nodded.

 

"Hang a glove on the ladder or something if you need privacy," he joked, wiggling his eyebrows at Cullen, who turned away, rolling his eyes.

  
"Goodbye, Varric," he said with some finality. Varric smiled to himself and started the climb down the ladder. He was nearly gone when he heard Cullen speak.

  
"Varric." He poked his head back up above the edge. "How did you know about the lyrium, if I might ask?" Varric looked at him for a moment, and Cullen could see him debating what to tell him. Finally, the dwarf heaved a deep breath and looked at his boots, the floor below, anywhere but Cullen's face.

  
"Truthfully, Curly?" Varric looked nervous now, but his mouth settled into a hard line as Cullen nodded. "At night, I can hear you screaming."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
